Death of a Hero
by Random Ravenclaw91
Summary: It’s Ron and Hermione’s wedding day, but Hermione is drowning in memories—memories of the Final Battle, a legacy, and the death of a hero. Oneshot, please R


It should have been the happiest day of my life: I was about to get married. Granted, we were only twenty, but we had gone through more in what should have been our last year at Hogwarts than what more people would encounter in a lifetime.

Only two years ago had been the final battle–the war to end wars. And we won. I wish I could leave it at that; I wish we hadn't suffered any lasting damage. Ron and I still don't speak of a certain part of the battle, which is why I have trouble writing about it. It's too painful.

He died.

What was that saying I once heard? Better a noble death than a wretched life.

Why am I even thinking of that now? I guess I've tried to escape from it too often for too long. But it's time.

Harry died.

We had finally destroyed all the Horcruxes. Well, that's what Ron and I had thought, anyway. Often during the time before the Final Battle Harry would wonder off alone. We tried to tell him it wasn't safe, but he wouldn't listen. Somehow, we still have no idea how–personally, I think he had help from Dumbledore in some way–he found out that Voldemort had inadvertently made him a Horcrux that night in Godric's Hollow.

He didn't tell us for so long. It was one of the only things he kept from us that year. He told Ron, Ginny and I the night before what we somehow sensed would turn out to be the Final Battle. I remember how Ginny's face paled. Ron and I could only think of her for a few minutes. We would be losing a lifelong friend, but Ginny would lose a lover and the man she would marry had he lived.

Ron and I could tell Harry wasn't frightened for himself; he was scared for Ginny. He wanted her to have the best life she could, which was why he has broken up with her the summer before what should have been his seventh year, but soon after he realised he was doing more damage staying away than he would by being her boyfriend again.

Then the day finally came...

OooOooOooO

We knew Voldemort would be in the Department of Mysteries that day, so we followed with various members of the Order.

I was so scared. In numbers, we were pretty evenly matched, but so many of us were young. We had so little experience in comparison. Not to mention that hardly any of us had ever killed anyone.

But I did it. I couldn't believe I killed someone. I can barely describe the feeling; it was simultaneous horror and elation. And that was when it finally hit me: this was real. It was finally happening. After one hell of a long year–after so many long years–the end was foreseeable. Only, so much would come with the end–what Harry had told us could never fully leave my mind. I knew what would come with having the relief of Voldemort's death.

I killed another Death Eater, but the duel had worn me out so much that I was attempting to catch my breath. At that moment I glanced around and noticed for the first time that we were in the room with the veil. I hadn't noticed because we had been attacked the moment we stepped inside. The sight of the veil sent a chill down my spine.

I also noticed that Voldemort and Harry were near it.

I saw them standing there and I knew instantly what was going to happen. It was so like Sirius. We'd been here so often during the hunt for Horcruxes–that was the easiest way to remove the soul from the Horcrux–and Harry had always said he had a feeling he would die there.

I had always thought he was joking. He wasn't a Seer, was he? Yet I wasn't surprised–I actually couldn't feel anything at all–when I saw Voldemort and Harry fall together through the veil. They were falling...

Suddenly the feelings came back. It was awful! Why did I have to see it? Why couldn't I have been dueling, even dying, at the moment? Anything would have been better than witnessing that. _Why_ did Harry have to die?

Together went the last Horcrux in the form of my best friend and the most evil wizard who ever lived.

One deserved to die; the other died a hero's death.

I saw all the Death Eaters clutch their left forearms in pain when Voldemort fell. I knew it had something to do with the broken bond, but I didn't really care at the moment except to hope the pain was terrible. They deserved it. Also, it gave us time to finish off the ones who didn't apparate immediately–those who apparated may never be found.

No one except me saw it happen. No one except me saw the veil take the two most powerful wizards alive. No one except me knew their hero was dead.

And I was the one who had to tell them.

They glanced around. Tonks, once she caught her breath, said what everyone was thinking, "He's dead." She was talking about Voldemort, not Harry

I nodded as I said, "I saw him fall through the veil." The thoughts raced through my head. Was there an easier way to tell them of Harry's death?

Ginny looked at me, her brown eyes pleading. "Harry... fell too?"

Everyone except Ron gasped at the nod I gave in response. There was no easier way. We hadn't been able to prepare them. Harry had ordered us to tell no one else he was a Horcrux; I knew he would have preferred not to tell Ron, Ginny, and me, but his conscience hadn't let him.

I couldn't stay in that room any longer. I fled like a coward. That room had claimed lives of three people I knew: one was deserved and the other two were not.

Harry never had a good life. His life was constant worry and knowledge that he was the "Chosen One." He shouldn't have died. And Sirius shouldn't have been taken from him. He should have been here at the Final Battle with us; he should have been the fourth person Harry told.

Still, I hope Harry was finally happy wherever the veil leads.

But he never knew. He never knew. I can't believe she didn't find out until later–I can imagine how happy he would have been.

Ginny was pregnant. During the war none of us could have gotten married even if we wanted to; we were too busy, and life was too dangerous — not to mention the fact that Ginny was only sixteen at the time. But we all became mature far beyond our years; we had seen far to much to be innocent.

So Ginny bore a son that would never see his father's face. A child who looked just like his father with the shocking exception of the Weasley red hair. A child who would carry his father's name but would never know the same hard times.

A child destined to be almost as famous as the father he would never know.

Ginny nearly scared us to death before she told us; she kept the secret from us for weeks. She wandered around pale and emotionless, not knowing how to tell us of the child she would bear at just seventeen years of age.

We understood why it took her so long to tell us. We knew how she must feel about the child. We also knew that no matter how she felt about the baby while pregnant, he would help fill the hole that Harry's death had made in her heart.

OooOooOooO

But today was my wedding. And yet somehow I was drowning in memories. I couldn't leave my dressing room; questions rapidly came into my mind. Did I really deserve to get married when Ginny and Harry never had the chance? Why did I have this chance? Why did I get it instead of Harry or Ginny? What makes Ron and me any better or different?

I heard a soft knock at my door. I knew by now my absence would be blatant.

"Who is it?" I asked without turning my head. The door opened slowly and I heard soft footsteps behind me. In the mirror I saw Ginny step behind me and reach for a brush for my hair that I had planned to wear down. She waited for me to speak as she slowly ran the brush through my hair.

"Why?" I asked her, putting all my questions into that one simple word.

Ginny and I were best friends and she knew exactly what I meant.

"There's no reason," she said softly. "It's just the way things worked out."

I couldn't accept that answer. "No," I said, my voice soft. I didn't know how to voice what I felt. "Why do I get to be married when you never will? It isn't fair. There has to be a reason..."

She smiled as I trailed off. I knew that regardless of her soft exterior that had come with motherhood and the death of Harry, she was still full of fire like she had been her fifth year–it just took a lot more incentive to come out. "Why do you always need a reason?" Ginny asked as she put the brush aside. "Some things will never have a reason; or if they do we'll never know them."

"I feel guilt–"

"No," she said, her voice louder this time as I faced her. "There is no reason to feel guilty. Harry's dead, and I miss him, but you didn't kill him, Hermione! Why the hell should you feel guilty!"

"It could have just as easily been me."

She shook her head as she sat down and looked deep in thought. Her words were slow when she spoke, "I always knew that Harry might die... I never wanted it to happen, but he was _Harry Potter_... So many people died. He was in the front. He was the head of everything... you and Ron were always there, but for some reason it mattered because you chose to be there and chose to fight... I guess Harry did too, but in a way he was forced... It was his duty but it wasn't yours, and for some reason that always made it safer for you."

We sat in silence for a couple minutes, both thinking separately about the same thing. Abruptly she stood. "Just because I never got married doesn't mean you and Ron don't deserve too. You guys are meant for each other. Harry would want you to be happy. He would hate for you to feel guilty. Besides," she added with a laugh, "I'm only nineteen. I have a lot ahead of me."

"I guess..."

"Come on," she said as she stood. "Are you ready?"

I looked at her, knowing exactly what she meant — even the things she didn't say. Ginny had come to terms with Harry's death and I should too. I shouldn't let it stand in the way of my happiness.

After all, today's my wedding! It's the happiest day of my life...


End file.
